


Normal Again

by Leia_Amidala (SDTS)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mentions of Violence, PTSD, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDTS/pseuds/Leia_Amidala
Summary: (Canon divergence after Rogue One.) The sole survivor of an attack on your home, you are saved by Cassian Andor. While grappling with your new reality, you struggle with your connection to the man who has similar scars to your own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: Mentions of violence, PTSD, angst since it is dealing with some serious themes. No smut in this chapter.

 

                At first, there is nothing. The sound is muted. Your memory is almost lazy with delivering specific details. A painting on the wall. A cup on the table. Things moving in slow motion. You are reaching out for the cup. A joke has been made and you are smiling –

                Then there is a cacophony of sound; an explosion so loud that you are sent flying backwards. A ring of fire. Fighters overhead; somehow you can see them even though the roof should be there. Screams. Your own. Smoke filling your lungs –

*

                You gasp, sitting up like a shot, clawing at your skin in an attempt to put out the flames. Someone is grabbing onto you. They are speaking but you don’t register the words. Anxiously, you try to fend them off, terrified that it is a stormtrooper. Something pricks your arm. A few seconds later, a woozy feeling works its way through you. You fall back against the bed and look at the ceiling. It isn’t the ceiling of your home.

                But your eyes close a moment later, tugging you back down into memories you would rather forget.

*

                Muffled voices. You turn your face to the side, pretending that you are still asleep. Are you kidnapped? Could the Empire have gotten a hold of you? The last thing you could remember was your best friend pushing you out of the way. Then just darkness.

                Your mouth is dry and your skin feels itchy. You are in a medical bay although there are no windows here or any sort of way to figure out where you are – and who has you.

                A woman’s voice is low and quiet, making it difficult to hear everything that she is saying, “…be here…. tell her…”

                Another voice. This one is male and has a slight accent – it sounds vaguely familiar as well, “You tell her…. leaving tomorrow to…”

                “Please.” And something in the woman’s pleading voice struck fear in your heart, “You found…. for her…”

                The man doesn’t reply. You hear footsteps; they are leaving. As soon as the room falls silent, you sit up and look at yourself. You are in a thin hospital gown. There’s a bacta tank in the corner and more medical supplies. The antiseptic scent is making your stomach nauseous. Your body is sore and tender; there are bruises dotting your upper arms and you can feel a bandage around your torso. More bandages are around your arms, sticking to your skin. You yank off your blanket, eager to get out of here and find your family.

                The blanket falls from your fingers as you stare down at your bare legs in shock. Even though you are sure they must have put you in the bacta tank at some point, the burn marks on your legs are still vivid; the skin raised and bumpy. A memory flashes across your skull – fire licking the ceiling, yourself stuck in the flames – and you flinch, too afraid to touch the burn marks on your skin. You cannot recall how you got them and you aren’t sure if you want to.

                Letting out a shuddery breath, you shake your head. Now isn’t the time to focus on it. You are getting out of here, figure out what happened and find your family.

                Your legs are stiff from disuse and your stomach is grumbling. But you force yourself to stand, wavering a little. Just how long were you out for? You wish you had a weapon in case the Empire has you. But why would they waste time healing you?

                Focusing on putting each foot in front of the other, you make it to the door and nudge it open. There is no sign of the people you saw speaking by your bed earlier. You appear to be in the hallway of the medical wing. Making sure no one is coming, you hurry downwards, trying the doors you pass. Each one is identical to yours and they are all empty.

                Frowning, you quickly get to the end of the hallway and walk through the archway. You are expecting more rooms to check; instead you have ended up on the main area of the medical floor. There is an office to one side and a few seats crammed in the middle. Like a waiting room, you realize, a run down one. The place has seen better days. The lights are dim, casting a dull glow on the space. It doesn’t look like any sort of hospital you have seen before.

                Belatedly, you realize that you aren’t alone. The man and the woman from earlier are speaking by the office. In your haste, you missed them completely. Now, the woman is looking at you with surprise on her face. The man doesn’t have any expression at all. He is tall and lean but looks exhausted. His hair is messy and there is a cut on his cheek that appears to have been quickly patched up.  

                You back away from them, suddenly nervous and bump into one of the chairs. It falls over, clattering loudly to the ground as the two approach you. With your back against the wall, you eye them warily, wishing again you had a weapon.

                “You’re awake,” The woman says, approaching you as if you were an easily startled animal, “We thought we had another day.”

                You don’t reply, backing away from her until your back strikes the wall. You don’t want them near you. You just want to see your family. Feeling exposed in the thin hospital gown, you wish you had brought the blanket with you.

                The woman glances helplessly at the man, “Cassian…please…”

                The man – Cassian – meets the woman’s gaze. His face is stern for a few moments before he sighs. Clearly, he doesn’t want to be here; doesn’t want to be dealing with you. He finally looks at you.

                “What do you remember?” He prompts.

                You try to speak but your throat is too dry. Cassian realizes this and asks the woman to get you some water. As she leaves into another room, he comes over to you. You balk at the sudden closeness of this man you cannot trust but there is nowhere else to go.

                “Why don’t you sit with me?” He offers, his voice accented and gentle, gesturing to the row of set up chairs.

                You shake your head and manage to rasp out, “Where is my family?”

                A strange look passes his face. His lips are pressed together as he studies you. There is a power radiating off him yet it feels strangled, perhaps pushed down and locked away. Yet somehow you can sense it in him – just like you can sense the bad news that is speeding towards you.

                “Here you go.” The woman has appeared and hands you a glass of water before casting her eyes towards Cassian, “I’ll leave you two alone.” Cassian opens his mouth to protest but she gives a small shake of her head, going down the same hallway you have just come from.

                You didn’t realize how thirsty you are until the water is in your hands. You gulp it down eagerly, wishing there was more. The entire time, Cassian is looking at you. He crosses his arms, waiting for you to finish. When you lower the cup, you suddenly feel light headed.

                He reaches out for you, gently taking a hold of your upper arm, making sure not to hit any of your bandages and sits you down. Taking a seat next to you, he runs his fingers through his hair. You can feel the bad news grow closer; can feel it stretching out around the room, getting ready to engulf you. Trying to fend off the panic brewing inside your chest, you study the man’s face. He is handsome, you decide, although the fact there is no feeling in his eyes alarms you. He is closed off and therefore you are nervous.

                “Are you with the Empire?” You blurt out.

                Cassian blinks in surprise, “What? No. You’re here, with the Rebellion. In one of our bases.”

                You cast a glance around the room. This is the inside of a Rebel base? Somehow, you were expecting them to be…nicer. Perhaps a little more state of the art. That was what you had heard, anyway, since they destroyed the Death Star.

                “My home was attacked,” You say, remembering the explosion, “By the Imperials, I assume.”

                “Yes, that’s right.” Cassian looks slightly uncomfortable now; it is clear he doesn’t want to be here, having this conversation.

                “Where are the other survivors? My family?”

                He doesn’t reply. In fact, he doesn’t meet your gaze at all. He is looking down at his hands. His fingers are calloused and slender. He rubs them together. You can feel a headache blossoming in your brain as your heart skips a beat.

                “Where are my parents?” Your voice goes up an octave, the fear getting the better of you as you grip the cup in your lap harder.

                “I’m sorry.” Cassian finally replies, “You were the only survivor of the attack.”

                He finally looks up to meet your eyes and you can see that he is telling the truth. For the first time, there is another emotion there – a raw and aching sadness that this is all familiar to him and that he has seen it all before.

                You push yourself out of the chair. The cup falls to the floor, making a loud noise as you shake your head. That cannot be possible. You can’t be – not the only one – not out of the entire village. That didn’t make sense.

                “We got there too late. The attack had ended. I found you in the wreckage of a building.” He stands up now, and forces his hands to his side so he didn’t keep rubbing them together, “I brought you back. We weren’t sure if you were going to pull through.”

                You want to say that you wish that you hadn’t. You want to slap Cassian too for being too late and not getting there in time even though it isn’t his fault. You want to blame yourself for not saving your family.

                But you don’t want to be around him; this walking remembrance of the attack you somehow lived through so instead you whisper, “Please leave me alone.”

                For a split second, Cassian looks like he is going to tell you something but thinks better of it. He merely nods and turns around. Watching him depart, you sink to your knees, alone in the room.

                The pain you feel is indescribable.

*

                You spend the next week in the infirmary, drifting in and out of nightmares blended with reality. Your body rebels, giving you headaches and your injuries throb, slow to heal when they should be recovering quicker. The days blur together; the only thing marking the time is when you are checked on by the doctor.

                When you are given permission to roam the base, you do so, anxious to get away from the medical ward where your only hobby is staring at the ceiling and thinking on how everyone you know is dead. The only question in your head is _why –_ why was it only you that had lived, why had Cassian only gotten there in time to save you?

                Perhaps it is that thought that spurns you on to locate the man who saved you. You hadn’t seen him since he delivered the news. But you quickly learn that this rebel base isn’t the main one – that one is located on some planet called Hoth – but a smaller operations base near the outer rim. Everyone knew who you were and knew your story. Everyone was kind enough to you. They all spoke of Cassian in a reverent tone. He commanded respect even though it became clear from what you heard in all your time roaming the base that Cassian kept to himself.

                You finally find him, almost two weeks after he first gave you the news, working on a ship. You had been hesitant to go into the hanger, afraid of touching and breaking something, but it became clear Cassian spent most of his time either on missions or by his ship.

 You had been collecting tidbits of information on the man who saved you, collecting it in a small pile only to reflect on it at night. You knew he had left for three days, on a mission no one would tell you about, to a planet you probably had never heard of before. The cut on his face had healed but his arm was wrapped tightly in a bandage, visible through his thin tan shirt. He is working on what you think is an X-Wing, covered in grease and looking focused.

“Hey.” You say when it becomes clear that he hasn’t noticed you.

Cassian is startled, letting out a curse in Spanish before straightening up to look at you, rubbing sweat off his forehead, “You scared me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t – sorry.” You reply lamely.

“What is it?” His tone is guarded as he eyes you warily.

“I wanted to talk to you. About my – about how…” You trail off, unable to bring yourself to say it.

Cassian shakes his head, pulling off his gloves and dropping them to the floor, “You shouldn’t be here. I can’t give you any answers.”

                “But you were there,” You counter, “You were the one who saved me. If you can only just tell me…”

                “I know what you want to know. But I can’t help you.” He turns to leave.

                But you scurry over to him and grab ahold of his arm, turning him so that he is facing you. Close to him now, seeing the stubble on his cheek, the darkness under his eyes and feeling the warmth of his body – Cassian is alive, his heart is beating and his blood is pumping, he is here while your family is…

                “Please. Don’t go. I just need to know – I need to know –” Your voice cuts off as tears threaten to start to fall.

                You are still gripping his arm, feeling the muscle underneath your fingertips as he leans closer to you.

                His tone is soft, “You want to know why. You want to know why it was you and not them. But there is no answer. That’s how it played out. That’s how it happened.”

                “How do you know that was my question?” The tears are streaming down your cheeks but you can’t bring yourself to stop.

                “Because it happened to me too,” He replies simply and the words strike your heart, “But I can’t help you.”

                Cassian breaks away from your grip. You make a small noise of protest and reach out for him. You want to ask what happened, you want to demand that he help you sort this out, give you more information or have this all make sense. You want him to do something! As unfair as it is, you want to stomp your foot and yell at him.

                But you do none of those things. Watching Cassian leave the hanger, you wonder with despair what you are supposed to do next.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormented by nightmares from being the sole survivor in an imperial attack, you find yourself seeking out Cassian's company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: smut.

 

                _The flames flash across your skin and along the walls. The ground is shuddering underneath you. One second you are standing and the next there is nothing but the sickening sensation of falling. You reach out but there is a terrible chorus of noise: screams and Tie Fighters, buildings crumbling and metal against metal. There is smoke in your lungs, making it difficult to breathe and you are crawling across what feels like glass. The world is upside down - familiar hands gripping you – darkness swirling into silence –_

Letting out a gasp, you sit up. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and you press your hand against it; a reminder that you are alive and you are here, in your small quarters on the Rebel base. Your thin nightshirt sticks to your skin which is covered in a thin layer of sweat. Kicking the sheets off, which have become tangled around your legs, you slip out of bed.

                The nightmares had been growing worse and with greater frequency as time went by. They always left you shaken and awake for hours afterwards, with a gnawing sense of loss that felt larger with every fragmented memory.

                Knowing it is useless to lay in bed and dwell, which is your newest hobby, you decide to go for a walk around the base. Changing into loose fitting pants and shirt, you decide at the last minute to bring a jacket. The base can get chilly at night, although it is apparently nothing compared to the main Rebel base on Hoth.

                It made sense to stay with the Rebels, not only because they had saved you, but because you simply had nowhere else to go. Everyone you had ever known had been wiped out in the Imperial attack, which from all accounts appeared to be nothing more than senseless violence to threaten other outposts.

                You are thinking about that fact now as you trail down the empty corridor. It is the middle of the night and everyone is still asleep or away on a mission.

This base seemed to be used for the intelligence officers. Some would stay here in between missions, others would come by for a quick stop on the way to their next location. It explained why Cassian always came and went; from what you had learned, he was basically a Rebel spy.

                But no one was very forthcoming about Cassian. Even though you were one of them now, the others didn’t seem quick to give up secrets or stories about each other. That left you with puzzle pieces; none which fit together yet.  Perhaps it was because you did odd jobs around the base and no one thought you were privy to that information yet.

                In the end, you muse as you wander, it doesn’t really matter. This is where you are now. There is nowhere else to go. The only question you truly cared about was why you were the only survivor. It is a question with no answer, one that kept you awake at night and in the back of your head during the day.

                Turning the corner, you realize you have ended up on the other side of the base. This is where the operatives slept; their rooms as silent as tombs. It is where Cassian lives.

                Your feet had taken you here automatically. In the month since you spoke to Cassian in the hanger, he had avoided you. In times where you happened to be close to him, he didn’t look at you; as if you didn’t exist. He had told you that he couldn’t help you – and had apparently meant it.

                But Cassian is a sole survivor of something too. You could hear it in his voice, could see it in the way he moved. Even if he hadn’t told you (“ _Because it happened to me too_.”) you would have guessed it. It marked him in a way that made it evident.

                You should turn around. Being here is pointless, thinking about Cassian a fruitless exercise in frustration. Yet your feet betray your mind and before you can stop yourself, you are in front of the door to his quarters.

                It is so late and you aren’t even sure if Cassian is on base currently. But you knock softly on the door, propelled by a force you do not quite understand. Nothing happens. You resist the urge to knock again and turn around to go.

                The door opens. You look over your shoulder. Cassian is holding a blaster, his eyes alert and body tense. When he realizes it is you, he relaxes slightly and looks down the hallway.

                “What’s wrong?”

                “N-nothing.” You feel stupid now and regret knocking on the door, “Were you asleep?”

                Again, Cassian scans the hallway. He is looking for something; danger, perhaps. But there isn’t anything to attack, nothing leaping out, just your foolish self staring at him. He is wearing a simple white shirt with lounge pants on. It is the most casual you have ever seen him and your heart skips a beat. Cassian brushes his hair out of his eyes and focuses on you.

                “What are you doing here?” His accented voice is tinged with hostility.

                Wringing your hands together, you shrug, “Sorry. I’m – nightmares. And I was walking. I ended up here. I don’t…” His gaze doesn’t change, “I’ll go.”

                You go to turn again when Cassian says, “Wait.”

                Hesitating, you blink in surprise as he motions for you to come in. This isn’t what you are expecting; not after he has spent so much time avoiding you. But you don’t want to be alone so you take his invite with a sense of relief.

                Cassian closes the door behind you, double checking the locks before putting his blaster on a small table, “Nightmares?”

                “Yes.” You mumble, momentarily distracted by his quarters.

                Cassian’s small quarters are spotless and deeply impersonal. It is as though no one lives here at all. In the month being here, your own quarters are covered in distractions. You had been working your way through different hobbies, trying to find one that would stick and make your brain stop humming. Cassian either didn’t have that problem, or didn’t want to think of his quarters as home. There is nothing to look at besides a state of small stack of datapads on the table in the main room and one lone candle that appeared to never have been lit.

                “The nightmares are common.” Cassian says and you glance at him, “You’ll get used to them.”

                “I don’t want to get used to them.” You reply.

                He shrugs, walking away from you. Cassian is rugged and in shape from constantly being on the go and in battle. You can see the scars on his arms and vaguely wonder if the rest of his body is marked as well. You think of the burn marks on your legs and how you will always have scars there. Whatever he went through, does he bear physical scars from the encounter?

                Cassian sits down on the couch. Feeling awkward standing, you sit next to him. You wait for him to protest but he doesn’t. You risk another glance at him. More stubble than the last time you saw him. Still the dark circles under his eyes. He has showered, you notice, because his hair is still damp and curls at the nape. There is a small scar on his left cheek that you haven’t noticed before.

                “You going to keep staring at me?” He asks and you can feel yourself flush.

                “Sorry. I just – figured you wouldn’t want to talk to me. Because you’ve been avoiding me.” You try to keep your tone casual but it sounds edged to you, laced with an accusation: _you saved me yet you won’t ever speak to me_.

                Cassian runs his fingers through his hair, shifting slightly so that he can look at you. You wonder what you looked like when he pulled you out of the rubble; you wonder if he saw the bodies of those you love. The thought makes you lower your eyes, looking down at your fingers. The nails are bitten to the quick and you resist the urge to pick at the skin around your thumb.

                “It is better this way.” He finally says.

                _For who?_ You think but don’t ask.

                “What you want – I can’t give you it. Closure. That only can come from yourself.” He is on auto-pilot now; it is the same speech he gave you before.

                You hold up your hand, just wanting him to be quiet. You have grown weary of being force fed shitty advice like _time heals all wounds_ and _it will get better_. Maybe Cassian is right: it is unfair to expect closure to come from the man who saved you. Perhaps he cannot give you the answers you need, cannot explain why you lived when everyone else died. But he is the only other person on this base that has been through something similar and he saved you. You are drawn to him.

                The silence expands and fills the tiny space. You can hear Cassian breathing. He is alive. You are alive. The two of you have lived through your own personal hells and are still standing. Does that count for anything? You can see his fingers curl around his pantleg as if he is holding himself back. Your heart is starting to race.

                “I just…” The words die in your throat and you try again, “Whatever I went through. You went through it too, right? In some capacity. I don’t need the story. I don’t need you to tell me why. I wanted to know…when it gets better.” You finish and force yourself to look at him.

                Cassian swallows hard but is looking at you. You can see yourself faintly reflected in his pupils, can’t stop focusing on the way his chest moves with each breath. More indications he is here, alive, in front of you – it makes your head a little light. Sometimes, when the thoughts threaten to overtake you, you press your hand against a flat surface, focusing on your heartbeat and think _I am here, I am in the present, I am not my memories_.

                As you trace the outline of Cassian’s jaw with your eyes, something in his gaze strikes you. _He isn’t over it_. Whatever happened to him, he hasn’t moved on from it. It still haunts him, still keeps him awake at night. And if he isn’t better, what is going to happen to you?

                “How do you handle it?” You whisper.

                Cassian forces his hand to unclench, lays it flat against his knee before replying, “I just try to find ways to dull the memory.”

                He tilts his face forward slightly. Your chest tightens. His body is warm near yours; that pull towards him feeling impossible to ignore now, like planets on a collision course. Cassian promises a reprieve; a moment without the thoughts causing your soul to ache.

                “Show me.” You whisper, your voice hedged with a silent plea for help.

                To your relief, Cassian leans forward and your lips meet. The kiss is hungry and desperate, open mouthed and messy as he yanks you into his lap. You straddle him as his hands gently cup your cheeks, his tongue in your mouth as you press yourself against him. Cassian tastes like oblivion; an oasis in the desert from your own terrible thoughts.

                You can feel how hard he is through his pants. You cannot stop grinding against him as he yanks off your jacket and moves his hands to grope your tits through your t-shirt. The kiss hasn’t broken yet and the movements have grown more urgent as if you are both out running something.

                His stubble grazes against your cheek as he pulls his face away to stare at you, “Your pants.”

                He doesn’t have to say it again. Dazed, you get off him, fumbling with your own pants to yank them off you. Cassian tugs off his shirt, tossing it to the floor as you pull off the rest of your clothes, leaving yourself exposed in front of him.

                You haven’t been this bold before with a man. Usually you are bashful, shy, nervous, yet with Cassian there is none of that. The only thing you crave right now is for him to be inside you as you crawl back into his lap. He cups your tits again, squeezes them hard and flicks his thumbs across your nipples. You run your fingers down his chest. As you had thought, he is crisscrossed with scars. Some are small and pale against his skin, others are larger and speak of pain. His life is etched into him.

                Cassian’s hands are roaming your body, away from your tits and down across your skin to your hips. Your pussy is wet and you no longer feel like waiting. Tugging his pants down enough to expose his cock, you position yourself so that he can enter you. His dick is thick and hard but you are so wet that your pussy takes him easily.

                As you sink down onto his cock, Cassian’s breath hitches. One of his hands grips the back of your neck while the other stays on your waist. You can feel him stretching you, can feel his cock filling you up as you take every inch of him. When he is finally completely inside of you, he brings your face towards his and crushes your lips in another kiss.

                You begin to ride him, pressing your hands against his chest. You can feel his heart fluttering like a trapped bird underneath your fingertips as he lets out a quiet moan. You like how Cassian sounds with his guard down, enjoy the way his cock feels in you and the manner in which his fingers dig into your hip. The pleasure is immense and your mind is pleasantly blank.

                Cassian breaks the kiss and you are looking into his eyes. Your pussy grips his cock with every move of your hips as you take him deep inside of you. Cassian mumbles something in Spanish but you don’t catch it. You are too busy riding him, enjoying the way that your body is alight with something other than sadness. You like how real he feels; how present he is.

                He kisses you again and tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth. His hands move to the small of your back, keeping you in place against him as you fuck. From this angle, he is hitting that sweet spot in your pussy, making you feel so good that you cannot stand it.

                His breath catches again as he murmurs your name. You are close now. Cassian’s cock twitches inside you and you know that he is close to cumming too.

                “I’m going –” You gasp, the pleasure becoming too much as your pussy tightens around his dick.

                Your head rolls back as you cum. Cassian lets out a grunt, going still as he cums inside of you. Together, you climax, clinging to each other on his couch as your pussy milks his cock. You can feel his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as you hold onto him, shivering. Goosebumps have broken out across your skin, Cassian is whispering your name as he cums. The walls here are thin, and both of you try to make as little noise as possible.

                When it is over, when oblivion has come and gone, you are curled against Cassian. It all happened so quickly, taking not only you but Cassian by surprise as well. You aren’t sure what to say; aren’t sure you could move even if you want to.

                This is how pain is dulled, you think as you bury your face in Cassian’s neck, this is how you can feel normal again.

               


End file.
